Only after the menacing man threatened her, which sufficed to Delphine as enough cause to stick her needle through his exposed chest though said violence never did occur, and after the hospitable beckoning of the inordinately scantily-clad woman, did the good sister realize how badly she shivered inside her armor.  The heat radiating from Syndere’s cast orb sang temptations to her, and gingerly Delphine approached.  If not for the woman’s speech, she would have fled immediately, but in her travels thus far she found that hollows could seldom put words together.  Delphine could not tell whether or not Syndere was undead despite her immodest and frankly embarrassing choice of dress, but at the very least she retained her mind as well as her body.  No matter.  This remarkable level of consideration from a complete stranger deserved thanks and praise.  [color=d8bfd8]”Th-thank you very much, sister.  Your generosity invigorates my soul.  Would that I could do unto you an act so recklessly kind.”[/color]  No matter the situation, Delphine would not abandon etiquette, for it separated her from the undead.

Nevertheless, her uneasiness prevented her from seating herself by the fire, and her gaze fell on the other bare-chested man partaking in the fiery-eyed woman’s warmth.  Did the denizens of this region not share the same standard of clothing as those of Eigenalle, or did they not understand the virtue of full plate?  Regardless, she determined speedily that this man had at least hollowed some.  His lack of verbal greeting seemed foreboding, and the gauntness of his flesh worried her, yet Delphine refused to judge him outright.  [i]Hammond[/i], she read, the words as visible as the man’s smile.  Watching his pantomime, Delphine furrowed her brows in concern for the man.  Luckily, though, it seemed that the pain of arrows did not bother him as much as it might a living human.  When he produced a club, Delphine froze, but he appeared to harbor no ill intent.  As best she could discern, he wished to proceed down a nearby path, but a group of archers stalled him completely.  [color=d8bfd8]”Good evening.  My name is Delphine.  I’m a Prioress…a nun, if you have nuns around here.”[/color]  Her eyes wandered the darkness, looking for the troublesome archers, but instead she discovered a soft orange glow up on a ridge—not quite fire, and not a trick of the light, either.  Suddenly, she felt as if she were being watched, and by more than Malakaus, Syndere, and Hammond.  

Before she could draw and definite conclusions, a terrifying screech rent the stormy air, and Delphine’s mind flew to the monstrous buzzard from earlier.  Could it be that it survived being impaled!?  No foe swooped down out of the darkness, however.  Delphine could honestly say, were she asked, that she had no clue what was happening.  Her greatneedle lay at the ready though, so she stood vigilant by the bonfire until a bizarre figure appeared in its light.  Baffled as to what she was looking at, she thought about striking it but reasoned that no vicious monster would unleash that many gibbering eccentricities in quick succession; only a loony human could perform such a feat.  Lunatics did not sit right with her, but if this one simply wanted a rest at the bonfire, she would not attempt to stymie him.  Instead, Delphine drew back from the group and seated herself against a rock, fearful but now warm and casually optimistic.